fortune of whom she had met several, who took to the wilderness as a last
resource, and by degrees sank to the level of the savages among whom they
lived, a person who was not worth a second thought. So she tried to put
him from her mind, and by way of an antidote, since still she could not
sleep, filled it with her recollections of Richard Darrien. Some years had
gone by since they had met, and from that time to this she had never heard
a word of him in which she could put the slightest faith. She did not even
know whether he were alive or dead, only she believed that if he were dead
she would be aware of it. No, she had never heard of him, and it seemed
probable that she never would hear of him again. Yet she did not believe
that either. Had she done so her happiness--for on the whole Rachel was a
happy girl--would have departed from her, since this once seen lad never
left her heart, nor had she forgotten their farewell kiss.

Reflecting thus, at length Rachel fell off to sleep and began to dream,
still of Richard Darrien. It was a long dream whereof afterwards she could
remember but little, but in it there were shoutings, and black faces, and
the flashing of spears; also the white man Ishmael was present there. One
part, however, she did remember; Richard Darrien, grown taller, changed
and yet the same, leaning over her, warning her of danger to come, warning
her against this man Ishmael.

She awoke suddenly to see that the light of dawn was creeping into her
tent, that low, soft light which is so beautiful in Southern Africa.
Rachel was disturbed, she felt the need of action, of anything that would
change the current of her thoughts. No one was about yet. What should she
do? She knew; the sea was not more than a mile away, she would go down to
it and bathe, and be back before the rest of them were awake.